


it's a chemical reaction

by unwindmyself



Series: no one's got it all (anthologies) [7]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Firefly Setting, Alternate Universe - Horror, Alternate Universe - Parks and Recreation Fusion, Drunkenness, F/F, Femslash, Grief/Mourning, Huddling For Warmth, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Polyamory, Introspection, Missions, Post-Canon, Roleplay, Skimmons Week, Team as Family, Timey-Wimey, polycule
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:13:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26412433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unwindmyself/pseuds/unwindmyself
Summary: Stories for Bioquake Week 2020.
Relationships: Jemma Simmons/Skye | Daisy Johnson
Series: no one's got it all (anthologies) [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/647315
Comments: 12
Kudos: 29
Collections: Bioquake Week 2020, Women of the MCU





	1. when we were young I never had to worry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 1: birthday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Or, well, discussing birthdays and the concept of time and age with Alya.
> 
> This is set several years after the finale and refers to a story that Shadowcrawler and I are currently writing wherein after the finale and several years of happy family time Fitz dies of heroic brain cancer (because there were so many threads suggesting that was going to happen in the final episodes and it honestly makes so much sense). The details of that will be explained in that fic, which should be posted soon, but just know that's what's up.
> 
> If you didn't read the [story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19412908) I wrote about tiny autistic child Jemma, that's where I first mentioned her older sister Claire. She's named after Amy Acker in _Dollhouse_ , and I was so keen on doing that that I didn't bother to care that there's already a Claire in the MCU. Oh well. Marvel recycles so many names anyway, at least this was for a reason.
> 
> Finally, this is a loose interpretation of the prompt "birthdays." Shrug. I needed to sort these details out for myself, and what better way to do than with a curious child character.

“Mummy, how old are you?” Alya asks, glancing up from her coloring. 

Jemma wrinkles her nose at Daisy, who says, because she’s not sure yet what Jemma’s thinking, “You can ask us that question, but some adults don’t like it, okay?”

“Okay,” Alya agrees, nodding. She doesn’t really get why, but she understands that adults sometimes have odd opinions about things. “But that isn’t an answer.”

“Well,” Jemma says, “I was born in 1987.”

“That’s so long ago!” Alya gasps. “Isn’t it?” She doesn’t have the best sense of time yet, maybe because she spent her first years in what was essentially a time vortex or maybe just because she’s the same kind of sometimes-scatterbrained genius as her parents.

Daisy smirks and ruffles Alya’s hair. “It probably seems that way to you,” she teases, “but it’s not even forty years.”

“That’s as many as four tens!” Alya chirps, giggling. 

“It is,” Daisy agrees proudly. She’s made sure to teach the kid as many age-appropriate memes as possible, and she loves seeing the results.

“So you’re less than four tens?” Alya presses, turning her gaze back on her mum.

“In a way,” Jemma says. “But it’s complicated.”

“Because of time and space?” Alya asks. She’s clearly got a bee in her bonnet now and won’t stop until she’s satisfied. “Like how I was born four years ago on the calendar but I’m nearly seven?”

Jemma nods. “I have extra years, too,” she says. “If I’d stayed in this timeline like most people do, and I’d just lived it through, I would be thirty-seven years old on my next birthday.”

“Wow,” Alya says, sincerely impressed. “That’s so many years.”

“It’s not _that_ many,” Daisy says. “Your gran is more than twice as old.”

“She’s more than _seventy-four_?” Alya exclaims. “That’s incredible!”

“Make sure you tell her that,” Jemma says wryly. Muireall Fitz has, after all, been indispensable these last few years, especially as Alya is concerned, and Jemma thought incredibly highly of her even before that. She’s been through a hell of a lot and she deserves every compliment.

“I will,” Alya agrees, nodding. “But if you have extra years, that means you’re more than thirty-seven too.”

“Yes,” Jemma says. “Considering the time we spent out in space with you and the time we spent going back in the past, I’m about forty by now.” She makes a face, exaggerating it to be funny. “That’s not very fun to admit.”

“Is it bad to be forty?” Alya asks. “Why is it bad to be forty if it’s not bad for Gran to be seventy-four?”

Jemma looks at Daisy imploringly, because she doesn’t trust herself to explain weird social anxieties sometimes. “Well,” Daisy says, taking this opportunity to be sappy instead, “ _I_ don’t think it’s bad, but your mom is shy about being so much older than me now.”

Alya scrunches up her nose. “How old are _you_?”

“Well, I was born in 1988,” Daisy says. “And I was there in the past, too, but I didn’t go into space with you guys, so I’m closer to thirty-six. We used to be only about a year apart, but now…”

“Now you’re four years younger,” Alya supplies.

“Give or take,” Daisy says. “I don’t mind, I still think she’s beautiful.”

Jemma blushes, clearly flustered. They’re still adjusting to being so demonstrative in front of Alya, and she’s never been particularly good at being demonstrative anyway. “I just don’t want to be strange,” she demurs.

“Mum, you have to say thank you,” Alya insists. “She gave you a compliment.”

Jemma smiles at her daughter before saying, “Thank you, love,” to Daisy as she fusses with her hair shyly. “I didn’t mean to be impolite.”

“You couldn’t be impolite if you tried,” Daisy counters playfully. “Besides, I think I can handle a girlfriend who’s four years older than me. My boyfriend fought in World War II.”

“I guess that’s true,” Jemma laughs.

Alya looks between her mum and her Aunt Daisy curiously. She knows that her Aunt Daisy isn’t an aunt the same way her Aunt Claire is her aunt. Aunt Claire is Mum’s sister, from the same parents, but Aunt Daisy (or Aunt Bobbi, or Uncle Hunter, or Uncle Danny, or, or, or) is only her aunt by choice, and because of how close she is to her mum. Aunt Daisy isn’t her mum’s sister, she’s her mum’s - well, girlfriend, apparently, though that’s not a word they used around Alya until recently. Now that her dad is molecules, Aunt Daisy is Mum’s number one romance person. She doesn’t mind. She likes Aunt Daisy, and she likes her other “aunts and uncles,” and her parents both explained to her that it’s alright to love more than one person the way they loved each other, so it’s not _odd_. She’s just still trying to figure out exactly how the whole thing works.

She _does_ know that, especially now that her dad is molecules, she’s glad her mum has Aunt Daisy. Maybe that’s all she needs to know yet.

“Well,” she declares suddenly, trying to be helpful, “thirty-six rounds to forty, so you’re still practically the same age.” 

“See, starchild’s got it,” Daisy teases, reaching out to boop Jemma’s nose.

Alya wiggles happily, because she likes being right and she likes that nickname an awful lot. “Ages are funny, aren’t they?” she asks.

“Time is certainly strange, anyway,” Jemma agrees.


	2. I know we’re more than strangers kissing in the day and night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 2: college/home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Or, well, one of the characters is in college during the time of the story and there's a scene at their end where they're at their home.
> 
> It's actually a _Parks and Rec_ AU.
> 
> Specifically, it's riffing on 3.13, "The Fight."

“Babe,” Daisy calls, traipsing into the office with lunch and two giant sodas. “Babe, guess what we’re doing tonight?”

Jemma glances up from the Outlook calendar she’s updating (or, well, correcting the spelling errors in) and regards her wife skeptically. “Going to bed early because I have an exam tomorrow?” 

“Way better than that,” Daisy grins. “Deke invited us to his nightclub.”

“The Lemon Bar isn’t his,” Jemma says archly. “He invested enough money in it for the actual owners to give him a permanent booth and a fancy parking space.”

“Yeah, well,” Daisy shrugs, “we’re invited tonight anyway. We get in free if we promise to talk up his new booze. Did you know you can just make your own booze?”

“Why do I feel like this is going to end horribly?” Jemma asks, though she knows it’s rhetorical.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun,” Daisy says. “We’ve been super boring lately. We need to go out and do something weird. Please?”

“How do we talk up his new drink if we’ve never had it?” Jemma asks. She knows she’s losing this one.

Daisy’s eyes gleam. “We’ll get to try it, but better than that, we get to roleplay.” 

* * *

The night is still young when Daisy strolls into the Lemon Bar. It may not be totally Deke’s club, but there’s no denying that he’s had an influence on the vibe of the place. What was once a kitschy dive bar with lots of puns on the menu is now all pounding music and flashing lights and, as promised, ridiculous alcohol.

She glances around, then decides wearing her aviators inside a mostly-dark club is a terrible idea and slips them off. 

“Hey, Daisy,” Deke says, sidling up. “Did you come alone?” He doesn’t sound as disappointed by this as he should (he still kind of thinks that Daisy and Jemma’s marriage is fake because it happened in their house and they’re both, you know, women).

“Daisy?” Daisy echoes, feigning confusion. “I’m Blake Justice. FBI.” She turns to show Deke the letters on her windbreaker. “My rivals at Quantico framed me for exposing the President's underground sea lion trading ring, so until I manage to clear my name, I’m running solo.” She stares into the middle distance dramatically.

“What are you doing?” Deke asks.

“You!” Daisy shouts suddenly, pointing toward the bar. Jemma is sitting there, wearing red lipstick and a pillbox hat and an impossibly coy expression. Ignoring Deke’s confused yelps, she storms over and demands, “You look exactly like the woman who’s been at every crime scene I’ve seen in the last two months!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jemma exclaims, putting a hand to her chest like she’s never been as scandalized. (It’s not convincing at all.) “I haven’t seen any crime scene in my whole life.”

“Likely story,” Daisy scoffs. “Where were you two nights ago, hm?” 

“Why, I was at a cocktail party on my father’s estate!” Jemma says. “Perhaps you’ve heard of him?”

“Lady, I haven’t got time to keep track of every two-bit society family,” Daisy says, rolling her eyes.

Jemma actually, legitimately goes “hmpf!” before she takes a sip of her drink. “The Lemonbars are hardly _two-bit_ ,” she says haughtily. “My father runs half of this town! Not to mention the very establishment you’re patronizing.”

None of their dialogue was at all planned, and in fact they didn't even know each other's aliases, so Daisy’s shocked reaction is genuine. “Your father is…?”

“Edmund Christopher Lemonbar,” Jemma explains haughtily. “And I’m Delaney Lemonbar, the heiress of the Lemonbar empire.” She takes another drink, trying to hide how the taste makes her wince. 

“Well,” Daisy says, nudging her way onto the barstool beside Jemma. “Far be it from me to reject an opportunity to drink with an heiress.” She raises her voice. “What are you drinking, gorgeous?”

Jemma beams. This is the whole point of their game, after all. “I’m having a Lemon Bomb,” she says. “It’s the smashing new citrus-tinted beverage that’s all the rage in high society.”

“Barkeep,” Daisy calls, “I’d like to try a Lemon Bomb, and another for the lady, too.”

* * *

Daisy and Jemma are on the dance floor, doing the worst sexy tango that’s possibly ever been done even as they’re still holding their Lemon Bombs. “My, you can sure cut a rug!” Jemma says, because for some reason Delaney Lemonbar talks like a character in a 1940s comedy film.

“You’re not half bad yourself,” Daisy says. “After I saw some of those footprints at the crime scenes, I thought I’d be dealing with a graceless oaf of a woman.”

Jemma stops moving immediately and splashes her drink on Daisy’s chest. (This doesn’t really work, because there are about two drops left.) “I told you, I’m no criminal!” she cries. “That was my evil twin sister Margaux, alright? I’d turn her in, but she’s absconded to Australia!”

That said, she flees the dance floor, arms flailing.

“Huh?” Daisy asks of no one in particular.

* * *

“I’m just saying, it’s stupid.” Daisy swings her legs against the back of the booth seat she’s not sitting in properly but is instead perched on top of. “Almost three times as many people speak Chinese as they do English. There’s over a _billion_ native speakers. So why isn’t Chinese one of the ones that they’re teaching kids in every high school? It’s super useful!”

“People are offended enough by Spanish in this country,” Elena points out. “And Spanish actually has things in common with English.”

Daisy looks affronted. “Wǒ shì yīgè hēikè. Wǒ zuò míyīn. Wǒ xǐhuān péngkè yīnyuè.” She raises an eyebrow. “Nǐ shì yīgè yōuyōu qiú.”

Elena blinks. “You said ‘yo-yo,’ didn’t you?”

“And hacker! And meme! And punk.” Daisy looks pleased with herself. “There are _too_ words in common. Just not in the same way. It’s totally not scary.”

She seems like she’s going to continue, but then she tips backward into the next (thankfully empty) booth.

“Mierda,” Elena mutters, going to right her.

* * *

“When I was a girl,” Jemma says animatedly, swigging from her fourth Lemon Bomb, “I wanted to be a mermaid and hang out with all of the fish. I took swimming lessons and I got good, I got _really_ good, I could jump in the deep end without being afraid, and I made my parents take me to aquariums whenever they could, and I’d try to talk to the fish but they couldn’t understand me, which makes sense because I wasn’t a mermaid _yet_ , but then -” She pauses, takes another drink, and sniffles like she’s about to start crying. “Then I did more reading and I learned I was too skinny to be a viable mermaid!”

Then she actually _does_ start crying.

“Hoo boy,” says Mack, who (as usual) was the only one smart enough to ignore Deke’s begging and who has therefore stayed sober. He goes over to Jemma and lifts her out of the puddle she’s collapsed into in her seat, but before he can get to the serious stuff, he has to ask, “Did you know you lost your hat?”

“May took it,” Jemma says, and she collapses against his shoulder with a mournful wail.

“Okay then,” Mack sighs. “Let’s get you some water and carbs.”

* * *

“Well,” Mack says to Elena, looking at Daisy and Jemma slumped against each other in a booth, “I guess we have to get the drunk kids home safe.”

“Someone has to be the responsible ones,” Elena replies. She clearly doesn’t mind it being them.

* * *

“God,” Jemma moans when her alarm goes off the next morning. She and Daisy are melted into each other on top of their bed, blankets forsaken, still halfway in their costumes. “Do you think my professor would kill me if I called in sick?”

Daisy opens one eye, then promptly realizes the error of her ways. “Have you ever missed a test before?”

“Once,” Jemma says. “I was eleven. It was horrible.”

“Yeah, I think you’re going to be okay,” Daisy snorts. Then she groans. “Okay, even laughing hurts.”

“What the hell is even _in_ a Lemon Bomb?” Jemma asks, grabbing her phone and starting to type an email to her professor. 

“I don’t even wanna think about it,” Daisy says. “You finish that, I’ll call work.”

“I guess we’ll just get our playing hooky all out of the way at once,” Jemma says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pardon my Google translations.
> 
>  _Wǒ shì yīgè hēikè_ ; "I am a hacker."  
>  _Wǒ zuò míyīn_ ; "I make memes."  
>  _Wǒ xǐhuān péngkè yīnyuè_ ; "I like punk music."  
>  _Nǐ shì yīgè yōuyōu qiú_ ; "you are a yo-yo"  
>  _Mierda_ ; "shit"


	3. have you found a new way of living your life, lost in the crowds, a meditative state

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 3: missions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Or, musing on the nature of missions and their respective roles regarding them in the new order.
> 
> Same timeline as Day 1.

It isn’t really SWORD policy to bring outside parties in for isolated missions - there are enough crew members on each ship to cover the important duties, and it’s not like they return to Earth after every destination - but when Daisy gets word that one of her team’s upcoming stops is an oceanic planet, she immediately starts planning how to get Jemma on board.

She isn’t sure Jemma will agree. She has to remind herself not to take it personally if she doesn’t. Jemma hasn’t done fieldwork since their original team’s final mission, and the projects she’s undertaken have all been able to be completed in her home office. Sure, if asked she’d say that was because of Alya and more recently because she had to be there for Fitz, but Daisy suspects there’s more to it than that. Why would Jemma really want to put herself back in the line of fire after she’d been so comfortable on Earth? Why would she open herself, once again, to monsters and slavers and hunters and kidnappers? She has a kid to think about now, and now that Fitz is gone, she’s all that said kid has left.

Daisy wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she fucked that up.

But Aecori is, by all accounts, a peaceful world. It’s approximately 98% ocean and the settlements there are environmentally friendly underwater/above water habitats constructed purposefully by the mostly-immigrant population of scientists and diplomats and craftspeople who have gathered there to learn and explore. Learning and exploring are kind of the whole purpose of SWORD, so it seems like a good place to touch down. It also seems like a safe place to bring Jemma. Minimal risk.

And how could she not at least ask Jemma along to an ocean world? SWORD has very little on the books about extraterrestrial marine life, probably because most of the worlds they’ve landed on so far are full of cities and mountains and mines and forests and other important but decidedly non-aqueous areas. Who better to start the research than SHIELD’s preeminent marine biology nerd?

(Who just so happens to be Daisy’s girlfriend, who Daisy misses adventuring with. That’s totally secondary, though.)

* * *

Jemma isn’t expecting to get brought along on any of Daisy’s missions. Their work lives are separate from their personal lives now, and Jemma’s work is strictly local. She’s fine with that. She’d liked being in the field (when she wasn’t being infected with alien diseases or kidnapped by fascists or tortured by aliens or watching her friends get in life-threatening danger) but she’s fine staying home, too. She likes being responsible for the beginnings of Alya’s education. She - well, liked is the wrong word, because she didn’t _like_ that she needed to care for Fitz through his illness, but she liked the time spent with him and didn’t mind taking care of him through the unpleasant things because that’s what wives (and doctors) do.

But it’s been several months now since she lost him, and even Alya (in all of her six-year-old wisdom) can see that she’s getting restless. 

When she gets Daisy’s email, the one outlining plans for the Aecori mission, she actually squeals a little. Everywhere she’s seen in space is practically dystopian: the interiors of evildoers’ starships, barren wastelands, grungy and neon-lit cities. This world sounds exemplary, like the kind of place other places could stand to learn from. Carefully created, respectful of the natural environment, politely governed. 

And the oceans! God, she can’t even fathom how fascinating that will be. Will there be fish with close analogs on Earth? Maybe even common ancestry? Will they be totally unique and strange? How do they interact with the other creatures around them? Will they mind if she photographs them (because she’ll have to photograph them, there’s no question about that)? 

She has to know.

She has to take this unexpected opportunity.

* * *

It’s really interesting, Daisy thinks, watching how her crew reacts to the news that Jemma is coming on board for their next mission. Of course, there’s a couple of guys that snark and grouse about the fact that she’s going to be bringing her kid along (“I hope _I_ don’t get stuck with babysitting,” things like that) but they all shut up when Daisy points out that despite her age, Alya has technically spent as much or more time in space than they have. 

Mostly, though, it’s an opportunity to learn how they’re mythologizing her. All of the old team have larger-than-life reputations amongst the newer recruits, just like May was the Cavalry. Daisy herself is treated like she’s practically an Avenger by the agents who aren’t on her team and with only slightly less reverence by the people she actually travels with (they’ve seen her do dumb human things like sleep on her boyfriend’s shoulder and bicker with her sister and call her friends when she sees something particularly exciting or strange). Most of them are careful not to address her as Quake unless they’re in the field and it’s _that_ kind of mission, but it’s pretty clear they regard her as way more of a superhero than she could ever see herself as.

She doesn’t mind it most days, but she’s not entirely used to it.

Jemma, though - there are two distinct halves of Jemma’s legacy. One is the Jemma Simmons that more academic agents know through her projects and research papers: detail-oriented, perfectly composed and rational, not afraid to stop everything to go on a relevant (if esoteric) tangent. The other is more dramatic: the time-traveling, quick-thinking fairytale princess of a woman, the one who fought monsters (well, fascists and aliens) and did a magic spell (her memory inhibitor) to protect the people she loved and was chased by a curse (the universe’s refusal to let her and Fitz be happy). Both stories are flattering, and there’s some truth to most of them, but they’re too neatly gift-wrapped to be real.

She does warn Jemma about this, lets her know how people might treat her. Most of Daisy’s crew is pretty cool, and some of them even understand that Daisy and Jemma’s romance is just as (if not more) epic than Jemma and Fitz’s despite it not ending in tragedy (and just as relevant as Daisy and Danny’s), but it’s still worth mentioning.

She wants this trip, however short, to be safe and worthwhile.

* * *

Jemma has always seen Daisy as someone with the potential to lead. She’s good at inspiring people to action, good at figuring out what that action should be, good at resolving conflicts, and helping those who’ve been affected. (She’s also good at taking charge, but Jemma’s context for that is much too personal to share with people.) 

So it’s really special watching Daisy be in charge of her own team. Not only do they function like the well-oiled machine they live and work out of (which is partially to their own credit but partially to Daisy’s, considering she’s in charge and likely helped design the routines) but they all clearly respect and admire Daisy. Most of them haven’t seen her at her worst, but even the ones that have - Danny, Kora - look at her like she hung the moon. They treat her like the hero she is, has always been. 

Jemma looks at Daisy, giving orders and conferring with her crew and keeping everything together so well, and for a moment she feels sort of small. This isn’t her world anymore, is it? She’s just a woman that put pieces together once upon a time, she’s just the shy science geek staring wide-eyed at something more important than she could ever dream, she’s just the widowed tourist tagging along to sightsee with her young daughter clutching her hand. 

Daisy is the hero here. She’s just present by the hero’s grace.

Better to spend most of the trip to Aecori in the cabin assigned to her and Alya, brushing up on all of the information they have about the planet and its people, teaching Alya enough of the language to be polite to their hosts, organizing her notes. She’s here for the research, nothing more.

* * *

That isn’t what Daisy had in mind, though, and as they’re approaching the planet she bolts to Jemma and Alya’s room. “Come on,” she says, “I want you to watch the descent.”

“Is that alright?” Jemma asks, sounding nervous. “Can I bring Alya or should I keep her away from the bridge? Or…?”

“More the merrier,” Daisy says warmly. “Anyone who argues faces me.”

So Jemma offers her hands to her best girls (Daisy takes the right, Alya the left) and lets Daisy lead her toward the bridge, and soon they’re standing behind Kora (in the copilot’s seat) and staring out the front window at a planet that’s all turquoise water and little patches of golden sand. Three smaller suns shine around the world, and even from the very edge of its atmosphere, its beauty is obvious.

“God,” Jemma murmurs. “That’s incredible.”

“Can I see?” asks Alya, who’s standing on her tiptoes (still too little to see all the way over the controls).

“Of course,” Jemma says, lifting Alya onto her hip. “Isn’t it gorgeous, darling?”

“It _is_ ,” Alya breathes out.

“I thought you might be interested,” Daisy teases, kissing Jemma’s cheek and then leaning her head onto her unoccupied shoulder.

“You’re even grosser with her than with Danny,” Kora says. She doesn’t even have to turn around fully to be able to tell.

“More practice,” Daisy retorts cheerfully. “Plus, she’s a little less square.”

“A little?” Jemma exclaims, mock-offended. “Has the nonsense you’ve dragged me into counted for nothing?”

“The key word there is _dragged_ ,” Daisy teases. “Don’t worry. It’s cute.”


	4. oh heaven please help me from falling back again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 4: Futuristic AU.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Specifically, _Firefly_ but remixed to be less problematique, [as such](https://unwind-myself.tumblr.com/post/644426780894248960/firefly-au).
> 
> Technically, Jemma is closest to Simon and Daisy to River, but they're childhood sweethearts, not siblings of a literal or metaphorical variety.

Daisy startles awake, breathing heavy, whimpering, “Jemma? Nǐ zài nǎ li?”

Immediately Jemma is on her feet. She’d gone to confer with Maria after their rescue, leaving Daisy in their bunk, and when she returned Daisy was already asleep and looking so peaceful. Not wanting to disturb her, and thinking that maybe after a traumatic day she’d want to be alone, Jemma had set up in the second bed. The room was designed with traveling acquaintances in mind, so the single beds are built against opposite walls, with storage space underneath. They’re not strictly speaking large enough for two people to comfortably share, but that hasn’t stopped Daisy and Jemma most nights. It was stupid to think that now would be the exception.

“Right here, love,” Jemma murmurs, going to sit at the foot of Daisy’s bed and reaching out as if to say, _I’ll hold you if you want it._

Daisy does want it, if the way she dives into Jemma’s embrace is any indication. “You’re always holding me,” she whispers. 

Jemma can’t help it, she shudders a little at the thought (more accurately at the memory of just a few hours ago, standing with her arms around Daisy’s waist as the townsfolk held their torches and stared them down, shouting “witch!” and “freak!” and “nǐ bú shì rén!”). “I wasn’t, just now,” she says instead.

“You do when it really matters,” Daisy says. “You held onto me in town. You told those people you’d die for me.” She forces out a laugh. “That was stupid.”

“They were the stupid ones,” Jemma insists. “Besides, what else was I going to do? Just let them kill you? Keep serving their backward interests even after they killed you?”

“Maybe you’d be better off,” Daisy mumbles, her train of thought going off its rails (this isn’t uncommon). “You’d get to do what you’ve trained to. You wouldn’t have to chase me across the galaxy anymore.”

“Don’t you dare say that,” Jemma exclaims, petting Daisy’s hair. “My life is here now. I work on the ship, I can help people here, and I… I’ll go where you go. That’s the point. I’d be wrecked without you.”

Daisy chokes back a soft cry. “Even if being with me gets you shot at and kidnapped and almost burned at the stake?”

“Even,” Jemma promises. “I’ll take the risks for you.”

“You always do,” Daisy says, and just like that she’s circled back around to the original point. “You keep saving me. You don’t have to, but you do. You stole me out of that place, you stuck your neck out for me, you do this over and over.”

“Of course,” Jemma says. Carefully, she guides Daisy down to the mattress, so they’re laying face-to-face, arms around each other. “I may not always get it right, but I love you. You know that, you believe that, right?”

Daisy nods. “I know,” she says. “I love you too.”

“I could never stay with anyone who’d hurt you,” Jemma says. “Especially if they’d taken you from me. _Especially_ if they’d done just out of their own backward fear.”

“Everyone is afraid of me,” Daisy mumbles. “Maybe they should be. I can hurt people. I could have hurt that little boy, just as easy as I helped him.”

Jemma sighs and squeezes Daisy a bit tighter. “That’s true of most medical procedures, technically,” she says. She’s not sure if it will be comforting, but it’s true. “There’s always a chance that medication or surgery or any treatment could have an adverse effect on a patient. That doesn’t stop people from taking medication or having surgery if the benefits outweigh the risks.”

“But if I’d killed him, it wouldn’t have been medication or surgery,” Daisy says. “It would have been _me_. They’d have been right to be mad.”

“But you didn’t kill him,” Jemma counters. “You saved that little boy’s life. They didn’t have a defibrillator, they didn’t have anything that could have done what you could with your powers. If you hadn’t been there, he would have died.”

Daisy lets out a whine and shuts her eyes so she can focus her thoughts better. “But they were still afraid of me,” she says. “I tried to help, but they were afraid. I’m scary.”

“No, you’re not,” Jemma says firmly. “You just have abilities that most people don’t understand, so they call them witchcraft. That doesn’t mean you’re scary, it just means they’re looking for things to be afraid of.”

“Is it going to get easier to deal with them?” Daisy asks faintly. “The people acting like this.”

Jemma sighs and moves in to kiss Daisy’s forehead. “I’m not sure,” she admits. “I hope so. I hope people will educate themselves better and that they’ll learn to be more accepting. I hope that they’ll stop using old-fashioned excuses to be cruel. I hope that we’ll be able to figure out ways for you to be more comfortable with your powers, too.”

“Wǒ xiǎng gēn nǐ zài yī qǐ,” Daisy whispers. “I want to be ‘we’ with you forever. If you want it.”

“I do,” Jemma promises. “I want to shield you from people who’d hurt you. I want to be there to take care of you and make you happy. I don’t care if we spend the rest of our lives flying around the ‘verse on junky ships if it means we’ll be together.”

“It’s hard for me to believe that,” Daisy admits. “Not because I think you’re lying, but…”

“Because you don’t think you’re worth it?” Jemma suggests softly.

Daisy nods timidly.

“Well, I’ve never been able to fathom why someone as exceptional as you would care so much for me,” Jemma says. She kisses Daisy again, this time on the lips. “I’m willing to remind you if you’ll do the same for me, alright?”

Daisy nods again. “Xièxiè,” she says against Jemma’s skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _nǐ zài nǎ li_ ; "where are you?"  
>  _nǐ bú shì rén_ ; "you're not human"  
>  _wǒ xiǎng gēn nǐ zài yī qǐ_ ; "I want to be with you"  
>  _xièxiè_ ; "thank you"


	5. let me be the first to say don't throw your life away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 5: huddling for warmth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Or, the _Cabin in the Woods_ AU you didn't need and that also technically means this is an experiment too!
> 
> For those of you unfamiliar with _Cabin_ , it's a horror movie with, uh, lots of death. I'm not going into too much detail here, but they do discuss several characters (Lincoln, Ward, Fitz) dying and being dead. You should probably skip this one if you're not up for that.

They’re both panting as they get back into the cabin and slam the front door shut. (Lincoln’s body is still laying on the front porch like any old forest debris, and Daisy has a moment of guilt about not being able to bring herself to do anything with it. It’s not really _him_ , though, and it’s not like they can bring back the others, so she tries to push it from her mind.)

“What the _bloody_ hell is going on?” Jemma squeaks. She clearly wants to scream, but she’s holding herself back from it, maybe hoping that it’ll keep the monsters from tracking them in.

Daisy takes a shuddery breath and tugs Jemma back toward the bedrooms. “You need to get dried off,” she says instead of trying to give a better answer.

“Hypothermia won’t kill me as fast as those things will,” Jemma mutters.

“I’m not in the mood to play chicken with cosmic irony,” Daisy retorts. “Come on, clothes off. I’m getting towels.”

Jemma grumbles, but once she’s in her room she starts stripping. It seems like a way to tempt fate, like by getting naked she’s basically inviting one of those _things_ to burst through her window, but the one she got a good look at was dressed like an actual, old-school Dracula-type vampire, so maybe they couldn’t get in even if they wanted.

“Here,” Daisy says as she heads into the room with the towels. Then she gets a good look at Jemma (who’s currently all the way naked and rummaging through her suitcase for a change of clothes) and gulps. This is so not the time to be a useless bisexual. She doesn’t even know if Jemma likes girls!

Okay, there _is_ her painfully obvious infatuation with Professor Hand, but she’s not sure that isn’t just a weird manifestation of Jemma being kind of a teacher’s pet, and even if it’s not, having a crush on a hot older professor who gives off wicked dominatrix energy is different than being open to…

Well.

“Daisy?” Jemma asks.

“Yeah?” 

“The towels?”

Daisy shakes her head to dislodge her creepy thoughts. “Yeah, of course,” she mutters. “Here. Dry off and I’ll do your hair after.”

Jemma nods, taking the larger towel and starting to dry herself off. “We’re the last two left,” she says. She sounds like she’s having trouble believing it, which is ironically the most believable reaction possible.

“What happened to the others?” Daisy asks softly. 

“Ward tried to jump the canyon on his bike,” Jemma says.

“Oh, geez,” Daisy murmurs. “That’s -”

“There was a forcefield,” Jemma interrupts. “Halfway across the gap, this… this _wall_ just lit up out of nowhere and he crashed into it. There’s no way he survived the fall.”

“Shit,” Daisy says. Ward wasn’t her favorite person (he wasn’t really anyone’s favorite person) but that’s a brutal ending for anyone, and having to witness that?

Yikes.

“What about Fitz?” Daisy asks, choking on the words. She hates feeling jealous of her friend, her friend _who just got murdered,_ but all she can think of is seeing Fitz and Jemma cozied up on the couch earlier, apparently moments from making out (despite the fact that Daisy had never seen or heard Fitz express interest in making out with _anyone_ ).

Jemma’s gaze falls. “One of the demon vampire things got him,” she says. “Pulled him right out of the driver’s seat. The camper crashed into the lake before I had a chance to do anything.”

“Hey,” Daisy says before she can think better of it. “Hey, it’s not your fault. You couldn’t have stopped the _literal_ demon.”

“I should have at least tried,” Jemma mumbles.

Daisy frowns. “C’mere, let me do your hair,” she says, because it’s easier than trying to come up with the words to talk Jemma out of feeling guilty.

Obediently, Jemma does, wrapping the other towel around her body and sitting on the bed. “Why is this happening?” she asks in a small voice.

“I don’t know,” Daisy says, starting to squeeze water from Jemma’s hair as tenderly as she can. “I mean, I can think of a few reasons, but none of them make any goddamn sense.”

“Tell me anyway,” Jemma presses. “Nonsense is better than feeling like we’re being judged by forces beyond our control.”

“Magic mushrooms,” Daisy offers. “Like, really evil magic mushrooms.”

“Unless they were hidden in our beer and potato chips, I doubt it,” Jemma says wryly. 

“LSD?” Daisy suggests.

“Are all of your theories about some variety of intoxicant?” Jemma asks.

“Maybe,” Daisy admits, sheepish as all hell. “Geez, Jem, you’re shivering.”

“Almost drowning can do that to a girl,” Jemma quips. It’s sort of heartbreaking how she’s trying to play it off like this hasn’t been the worst night of her life, but, like, Daisy understands. How else do you even begin to react to this?

“Can I help?” Daisy asks. She waits for Jemma to at least nod permission before she wraps her arms around her and holds tight. “We should lay down.”

They do, sort of awkwardly spooning under the hastily rearranged covers. “If the monsters are anything like traditional vampires, maybe we just have to wait until daybreak,” Jemma suggests.

“Yeah, maybe,” Daisy says.

“Or maybe we just let them come get us,” Jemma whispers, all of the hope gone from her voice. “Maybe… maybe that’s all we can do.”

“Hey, no,” Daisy says. “Listen to me, alright? We’re gonna figure this out. We’re gonna get out of here and we’re gonna take some of those murdering monsters with us. We just need to regroup.”

“What makes you so sure?” Jemma asks faintly.

“Because I know we can,” Daisy says. “We’ve got to.”

Jemma sighs and wiggles against Daisy. “Keep saying it,” she says. “I believe you.”

“Okay,” Daisy agrees, trying really hard to push her horny thoughts all the way out of her head. “We’re gonna do it. In a few minutes we’ll get up, you’ll put on dry clothes, and we’ll figure out how to kill these bastards and get revenge for our friends.”

Jemma nods, then reaches for one of Daisy’s hands and kisses it.

“Uh!” Daisy exclaims.

“Was that not…?” 

“No, I mean, I just - you and Fitz were…”

Jemma flips around to kiss Daisy on the mouth. “We weren’t anything,” she says. “Not like that.”

“Jesus, this night,” Daisy sighs, but she can’t stand to let Jemma keep looking so hurt, so she leans in and kisses Jemma back. She’s never been good at the whole timing thing.

They kiss for another few minutes, keeping it pretty tame (all things considered) but clearly both enjoying themselves. Maybe it’s the wrong moment, but maybe they have to take it because they might not have another moment. 

And then Daisy sees it.

“Daisy?” Jemma asks, raising an eyebrow. “What’s going on?”

“Look,” Daisy whispers. “In the corner of the room. Is that a _camera_?”


	6. the embers have gone from my eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 6: domestic team.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Or, members of various iterations of the old team gather for Fitz's funeral.
> 
> Because it's not against Enoch's prediction if Fitz is dead and therefore not present.
> 
> As usual, I'm not Fitz's biggest fan, and that probably leaks in.
> 
> Mad credit to _Halt and Catch Fire_ for inspiring... honestly, this whole plotline.

Fitz’s mum Muireall puts Alya to bed and then retires herself around nine-thirty, at which point Hunter takes a couple of bottles of booze (Tanqueray for Jemma, Glenlivet because it’s appropriately Scottish) from the crate he brought, Danny goes into the kitchen to get glasses (and a bottle of orange juice for Elena), and Bobbi opens the huge box of Scottish pastries that Piper had sent to the house as an apology for not being able to make it to the funeral herself.

Everyone pours drinks for themselves and sits in awkward silence till Coulson says, because he’s the one who says things like this, “It was a beautiful service.”

Everyone nods, and after a moment Flint clears his throat and asks, “Should someone say something? About him. That’s what you do, right?”

“If anyone wants to tell stories, that would be nice,” Daisy says. Jemma is sitting on the big couch, sandwiched between her and Bobbi, and she’s looking more vulnerable than she has all night now that she’s not having to put on a brave face for her daughter, so it’s Daisy’s job to keep things running. She knows it goes without saying that the stories will strictly be of the positive variety like they have been all day. Those are the only stories anyone wants to hear.

“We called to tell him we were pregnant,” Elena says, nodding between herself and Mack, “and he didn’t look well. He fussed and tried to pretend nothing was the matter, like he always did -”

“But finally I insisted he tell them the truth,” Jemma interjects, laughing ruefully. “He’d regret it if he didn’t take the chance to say goodbye to everyone.” And she, being the one left behind to deal with it, would regret it even more.

Elena casts her a sad smile. “So she got him to admit it,” she says, “and while we were both sitting there, wondering what you’re even supposed to say to someone who’s just confessed that they’re dying of brain cancer, he looked us straight in the eye and said, he said…”

“‘You have to promise me that you won’t saddle your child with my name just because I’m dying,’” Mack supplies, chuckling. “He’d figured out that we were expecting even before we had a chance to say it.”

“I felt awful,” Jemma admits. “Here they were, calling with wonderful news, and our news was so devastating, but Fitz… he’d already accepted what was happening. He could joke about it.”

“Oh, that wasn’t a joke,” Mack says, grinning. “I love him, and I’ll be happy to honor his memory some other way, but no child of mine is getting named ‘Leopold.’”

Everyone chuckles, albeit like they’re not totally sure it’s allowed (Daisy squeezes Jemma’s hand, knowing they’re both thinking about the uncomfortable Doctor-related connotations of the name). 

“He knew, didn’t he?” May asks carefully once the laughter has petered out. “When he came back, and we were all together last.”

Jemma heaves a sigh. “We’d known that _something_ was wrong,” she admits - she’s had this conversation with Daisy, of course, and with Bobbi and Hunter, but not with everyone at once. “Some of the symptoms of his encephalopathy were coming back at the end of our time in space. He would forget words, or his hands would shake. He had a seizure once, but he tried to convince me that it was just a one-off event.”

“That’s our Fitz,” Hunter chimes in, raising his glass. “Ever trying to stick it out.”

(It’s the kindest possible assessment of Fitz’s behavioral patterns, and everyone knows that, but it’s another part of that necessary rose-tinting of things about someone who’s just been buried.)

“We didn’t have an official diagnosis until after everything played out and we were settled here,” Jemma continues. “But we both suspected he was on borrowed time. It’s a big part of why we stayed as long as we did in our hideaway. He wanted to have at least a couple of years as a family, just in case.”

“I’m glad you got more time together than you expected,” May says softly, reaching out to put a hand on Jemma’s knee. It’s the kind of demonstrative gesture that everyone is still learning to expect from her, but it means the world to Jemma. They’re both in the same sad widows’ club now, and that means they understand each other in a way the others can’t.

Daisy’s grip on Jemma’s hand tightens. She knows this is difficult for Jemma to discuss, but more than that, the timeline still worries her. Did Jemma get pregnant and Fitz suggest playing house in response despite Jemma’s desire to hurry up and help the team, or did Fitz suggest hiding out, meet resistance, and then he just happened to get Jemma pregnant and that sealed the deal? She doesn’t expect that she’ll have her suspicions confirmed, because she won’t push Jemma on it, especially right now, and because she doesn’t want to do anything that might bounce back on Alya, but said suspicions are on the list of reasons she can’t quite forgive Fitz.

“And I’m glad you have each other,” May adds, nodding between Jemma and Daisy. She doesn’t know exactly why Daisy is uneasy, but she can guess, and she wants to fix it; what’s more, she _is_ genuinely glad. Daisy is like her daughter, and Jemma’s not too far off from that, so it does her heart good to see them able to make each other happy.

(What’s more, she knows it’s their bond that’s at the core of the strange polycule so much of the old team has wound up involved in, and she’s glad of that too. It’s been overwhelmingly positive for everyone involved, from what she can tell, and they can all use more positive in their lives.)

One of Hunter’s jobs, he reckons, is to change the subject when things get a little too heavy, so after a moment he glances at Flint and says, amused, “Looks like the sprite’s got a little crush on you.”

Flint laughs. “You mean Alya?” he asks, even though it’s obvious. “Yeah, she hasn’t been subtle.”

“She’s six, she’s allowed,” Mack jokes. 

“I don’t mind,” Flint says cheerfully. “It’s kind of flattering.”

“Do you swim much?” Bobbi asks him.

“Uh,” Flint says. “I’m still getting used to having free access to running water, so no.”

“You should practice before you visit next,” Bobbi suggests. “She’ll probably be comfortable enough with you to insist on introducing you to all the fish in the pool by then.”

“I didn’t see fish in the pool,” May says, expecting that will prompt an explanation.

Jemma beams. “One of Fitz’s last big projects,” she says. “He figured out a way to rig up realistic-looking holograms of marine life in the pool. You can change the settings to represent different areas of the ocean and observe the fish just like you would if you went scuba diving, but it’s obviously much safer. Our pool’s only six feet in the deepest end.”

“I didn’t know Fitz was that comfortable in the water these days,” Coulson says.

Jemma snort-laughs (Daisy, Hunter, and Mack all do too, though more quietly). “He wasn’t,” she says. “He never did more than sit at the end with the stairs and dip his feet in. But Alya’s practically a mermaid, so this was his way of spending time with her out there. He did the programming, I did the physical parts of it and the basic biological modeling. He liked having something to focus on.”

What she’s not saying is that it was also a nice way to utilize the barest bones of some of the harmful tech he’d created over the years for something genuinely positive and harmless that would outlive him. Everyone understands this anyway. 

“Alya’s handling this like a champ,” Coulson says.

“Alya’s having her ups and downs,” Jemma counters with a sad smile. “We tried not to keep anything from her, so she understands what happened. It doesn’t mean she hasn’t broken down.”

Coulson looks appropriately chastened. “I just meant she seems like she’s doing as well as she can,” he says sheepishly. “And I’m sure a lot of that is because of you.”

“Well, she did learn how to mask from me,” Jemma says dryly.

“Think he’s tryin’ to pay you a compliment, love,” Hunter chimes in (he’s sat on Bobbi’s other side, already on his second glass of scotch). He sounds fond, almost amused - they’ve become decidedly more familiar with each other in recent years, being official metamours and all.

“Thank you,” Jemma says to Coulson, making an apologetic face. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to…”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Daisy says quickly, raising an eyebrow at Jemma. If they were alone, this would be when she calls her “honey,” but that’s too intimate for the group.

Danny smiles gently at both of them, sort of picking up on what’s going unspoken. (He and Jemma are still technically metamours too, but he knows that’s likely to change in the near future. He’s starting to figure out how to interpret Relationship Jemma.) “You’re doing an amazing job with her,” he says. “I think that’s what Coulson meant, and I think we’d all agree.”

Elena nods and Mack says, “You’re a pretty fantastic mom. This is one of the hardest things to get through, and you’re doing it.”

“Well, I couldn’t do it alone,” Jemma counters, because that’s easier. “Muireall’s been nothing short of incredible, and Danny and Daisy…” They got in several days before the others (it was Daisy’s responsibility as Jemma’s remaining primary, after all, and Danny was happy to come along) and they’ve been helping with nearly everything, including keeping Alya comforted and entertained.

“It’s the least we could do,” Danny shrugs. It’s just that simple to him. “You mean a lot to us.”

“Still,” Jemma says, glancing around at the group before letting her gaze come to rest on Danny and, more significantly, Daisy. “I hate that this is what it took to get us all back together, but I’m glad I’m not alone right now. I’m glad none of us have to be.”

“Of course,” Daisy says, squeezing Jemma’s hand again. “That’s what family is for.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Polycule map!](https://docs.google.com/drawings/d/1cocBx9vNA5V5L-IViBb4aKY2dmTk-MsABc3OhMH1kRM/edit?usp=sharing)


	7. fly to me and we can start again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 7: endings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Or, the end of one phase of life that means the beginnings of the next one.
> 
> Same continuity as chapters 1/3/6 of this collection and the fic that Shadowcrawler and I are working furiously to finish, but this chapter comes after all but 1. By this point Fitz has been gone for about seven months and it's time for Jemma to stop swimming laps.
> 
> (Again. Thanks to _Halt and Catch Fire_.)

“Honestly,” Jemma says as she drags her last suitcase onto the quinjet, “we could have flown commercial. You didn’t have to come out to give us a ride.”

“Of course I did,” Daisy says firmly. “We can do transcontinental flights way faster than commercial airplanes, and thanks to Fitz, there’s basically no carbon footprint.” She pauses, because that’s the appropriate thing to do after bringing up a fallen friend and ex-metamour who, for all his many moral failings, did manage to invent a good and valuable alternative fuel source. “Besides, it’s my responsibility. You’re my girl.”

Jemma shuts her eyes for a moment and smiles, clearly pleased. “Well, yes, I am,” she says softly.

“Mum!” Alya shouts, running up the ramp and onto the plane. “Everything’s on board, I’m ready to go!”

(Knowing that the house she last had her dad in is still going to be her gran’s, and that they’ll be able to go back to it during hols, means that she’s not all that upset about moving. It’s just a new adventure.)

“Are you sure?” Daisy asks, grinning. “Are you _positive_? Do you have all your books? Do you have your tablet? Do you have Thunderbolt?”

Alya looks indignant. “Of course!” she says, whirling around to show Daisy the plush critter secured to the top of her backpack. It’s - she’s, Alya is quick to insist that none of her stuffed animals are referred to as it - part Bombay cat and part anglerfish, with glow-in-the-dark eyes and a wide open mouth, and Alya has barely let her out of her sight since receiving her for her fifth birthday. “I would never leave her behind, she’s one of my best friends.”

“We know,” Jemma says, reaching out to touch Alya’s shoulder fondly. “Daisy’s just teasing.”

Daisy nods. “Is she gonna ride with you?”

“Yeah,” Alya says, going to set her backpack down on one of the empty seats and let her plush free. “She likes traveling and seeing new things. And she’s a good cuddle if I get sleepy.”

“That’s important,” Daisy says solemnly, but then she beams over at Jemma. They’re obviously not going to be sleepy-cuddling while Daisy’s flying the plane, but in general, they understand that sentiment.

* * *

After an hour of running around the quinjet, exploring corners and explaining the clouds she sees outside the window and helping herself to a truly impressive portion of cheese and crackers, Alya does, in fact, curl up in one of the seats with Thunderbolt in her arms and fall soundly asleep. In a minute flat, she’s snoring delicately.

“Well, that’s precious,” Daisy says.

“I’m just impressed she’s managing to get that comfortable in one of these seats,” Jemma says. “They’re not the worst, but they’re not exactly designed for a nap.”

Jemma gathers up the cheese and crackers and Daisy grabs a couple of sodas before they retreat to the cockpit. The door stays open in case Alya wakes and wants to come find them, but there’s enough distance that their talking and snacking won’t wake her.

“I guess this isn’t the strangest place she’s ever tried to sleep, though,” Jemma continues, nibbling a cracker. “She’s adaptable.”

“That’s a good thing,” Daisy says. “She’s tough. She’s gonna be okay.”

“I hope so,” Jemma murmurs, suddenly frowning. “She’s sworn up and down that she’s excited to move, that she’s happy I’m going to be working, but…”

“But she’s your kid,” Daisy finishes, understanding all too well. “You’re worried that she’s just pushing her feelings down to make you feel better, because you know you do that sometimes too.”

“Yeah,” Jemma says. “This has been a rough, awful year for her. She lost her dad! I feel terrible asking her to uproot her life, move to a new country, and leave her gran behind on top of it.”

“The house is still there,” Daisy points out. “So is Muireall. You can call whenever you miss her and visit in the summers.”

“It’s not the same, though, is it?” Jemma asks. “She’s used to a house with a proper yard and a pool and space to run around, and she’s used to her gran being _there_ , and -”

“She also spent the first three years of her life living in literal outer space, and she adapted to life on Earth just fine,” Daisy points out, smiling wryly. “I think she’ll be able to manage Scotland to America.”

“I just…” Jemma makes a face. “I feel like I’m asking a lot of her. I feel selfish.”

Daisy sighs and makes sure the plane’s controls are set before she turns to face Jemma, her expression serious. “Jem,” she says, “there is nothing selfish about taking a job you’re uniquely qualified for and know you’re going to love. You’ve been talking about ending up at the Academy since before I even really understood what the Academy _was_.”

“But things were different then,” Jemma mumbles. “I didn’t… I wasn’t…”

“Honey,” Daisy says, more firmly now, “nobody expects you to spend the rest of your life sitting on your hands in freaking Perthshire just because you had a kid and your husband died.” 

(Frankly, she thinks it’s a little ridiculous that Fitz seemed to expect her to be content with sitting on her hands in Perthshire because they had a kid. Sure, she managed freelance projects - usually at Daisy’s behest - as often as she could, but he didn’t even seem to like hearing about those, even before he got really sick. Saying that wouldn’t serve anything, though.)

Jemma lets out a long sigh. “I know that, intellectually,” she says. “But that awful guilty voice in my head won’t shut up about it. I should have let Alya stay closer to her grandparents, and where she last got to be with her dad.”

Daisy reaches for Jemma’s hand. “Alya’s gonna be fine,” she says. “She’s the one who told you that you should take the job, right?” Sheepishly, Jemma nods. “And honestly, I wish I could punch that voice in your head. Nobody gets to make my girl feel this shitty and get away with it.”

That makes Jemma laugh, albeit weakly. “Thank you, love,” she says. “I’m sorry I’m being such a mope. I really _am_ excited, too. It’s going to be wonderful.”

“You’re basically born to be a professor,” Daisy says encouragingly. “And the townhouse is really nice, you’re going to love it.”

“I know,” Jemma says. “I just need to focus on the good things.” She grins. “You know the best one?”

“What?” Daisy asks, though she can guess. 

“Getting to be closer to you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plush in question is the [Bombangler](https://purrmaids.com/product/bombangler/) from Purrmaids by KikiDoodle. You should absolutely get familiar with this company: the hybrid cat/fish designs are absolutely adorable, they're quality plush, and supporting them means supporting independent artists who happen to be very nice people! 
> 
> And her name is Thunderbolt because that's the name of an asterism of some of the stars in the constellation Pisces.


End file.
